


Alight

by LittleLinor



Series: From The Ashes [2]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Boot Worship, Dom/sub, Foot Jobs, M/M, Stepping On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: “And where did you get that idea?”“Cause your eyes always light up when you could.”Galo's vowed to bring the fire in Lio's soul back. It works, although not in the way either of them had originally expected.(Or: Galo asks Lio to step on him, and Lio finds out he still has a libido after all)
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Series: From The Ashes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539028
Comments: 23
Kudos: 123





	Alight

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, now that I'm finally not distracted by ten other ideas, here's the sequel.

The problem with Galo Thymos, Lio thinks, isn't that he's stupid.  
(He is. Lio would feel bad for saying or thinking it, now that they're no longer risking their lives and trying to save the world and he's no longer having a heart attack every three seconds at Galo's idiotic(ally brave) decisions, except Galo himself says it, claims it, wears it like a badge of honour the way he used to wear Kray's medal, and Lio comes to accept it. He can be proud of being stupid because it just shows how strong all his other qualities are to compensate, and… maybe Lio can be okay with that interpretation. So, yes, Galo is an idiot, but that's not the problem.)  
The problem is that he's cute.  
He'd first thought it when he saw it that first time, defying him with his tiny armour. Cute of him to stand up to them, to act like he had a chance, to throw bravado at them so he could protect as many people as he could. Lio had always meant to get caught, but seeing him face him like that, he couldn't help but toy with him a little first. To give him some of that fight he so craved.  
He'd thought it when Galo tried to spout naive nonsense at him in the cave. Yes, _that_ was stupid too, his blind worship of Kray, his carefree suggestions. His belief that the Burnish wouldn't be hated just for existing. But for him to say it with such simpleminded conviction, he had to actually believe it. He, at least, didn't think Burnish needed to be erased for the crime of existing. That was kind. The stupid part was thinking everyone else was like him. But that faith, that simple view of the world was cute too. Lio almost felt bad for breaking it. Almost.  
He thought it when Galo posed with his new matoi, although he'd rather have died than let him know that, at the time.  
He'd thought it when he panicked after saving him, as if having willingly touched fire somehow made him less of a firefighter.  
(Okay, maybe Lio was a little more predisposed to find him cute in that particular moment, but could you really blame him?)  
So Galo Thymos is cute, and that's a problem because when Galo Thymos asks you for something, or when he tries to convince you of something, with his honest enthusiasm and his puppy eyes and his pure belief in the good in the world and in people (including you), you can't just deny him. It's impossible.  
How Kray Foresight managed to deal with him for _years_ and not cave is mind-boggling to Lio. He'd almost be admirative of the man, if he wasn't a complete piece of trash that he only let live to prove that he's better than him.  
(And because Galo asked him to. Lio's starting to see a pattern here.)

So, because Galo is cute, and because Galo is impossible to deny, Lio finds himself caving.  
It's ironic, he thinks absently, shifting his grip on his practice sword and eyeing Galo's movements almost dispassionately, only a fragment of his old battle lust sparking deep in his core, how despite everything that's one thing he hasn't lost. That weakness for him. He's never really been good at resisting Galo, but then again, he's never been good at not taking charge when he sees people who need it. He'd watched over and provided for the Burnish for years, just like he'd spoiled Galo from the getgo; it's natural to him, something he never really questioned until now. But that was then, and this is now.  
Lio doesn't remember what it's like, to experience normal, everyday emotions and feel _full_ from them. He used to keep them under control, always, so that they wouldn't grow into something bigger and more destructive, unless he needed them to. When he did feel full, it was with fire.  
But now, it's hard, this whole normal emotions thing. He keeps them pressed down machinally and doesn't even notice they're there. It's been too long.  
But Galo makes him weak. And maybe that weakness is a start.  
“How're you…” Galo pants, shaking a building cramp from his hand before gripping his sword and dropping into fighting position again, “not even… sweating…”  
Lio smiles.  
“Do you like my sword skills when I'm not trying to get caught?”  
“How long are you gonna hold that over my head,” Galo grumbles, shooting him a look that feels more like the Galo version of pouting than like actual resentment. “I get it, I was all proud over nothing. That make you feel better?”  
Lio chuckles.  
“Still, I _was_ impressed.”  
“Huh?”  
“You were very brave. Standing up to us alone. Stupid, but brave. It's cute.”  
Galo blinks. Lio uses his chance to extend his ankles like a released bowstring and materialise at his side, shoving his sword hilt up from under and inside his guard and disarming him.  
To his credit, Galo stands his ground, and doesn't stumble down. Lio's not entirely sure what he'd have done if Galo had been at his feet.  
(Maybe this is working better than Galo himself expected.)  
“C-cute?” he splutters as Lio nonchalantly lifts the tip of his practice sword to rest in the hollow between his chin and neck.  
“Yes. Have you never heard it before?”  
Galo's eyes, that had been fixed on him with an intensity that made Lio rethink the fact that he wasn't on fire anymore, go out like a fluttering candle, flitting to the side and down.  
“… once or twice,” he mutters, as if it didn't matter.  
Lio, throat cold, lets him pretend it doesn't matter.  
And then, while he's busy trying to pretend that he doesn't care, that something in him doesn't want to light something—someone—on fire again, his feet are swept from under him, and only his reflexes allow him to roll and fall next to Galo's feet on his stomach, instead of painfully on his ass.  
He stares up, unamused (but maybe a little proud). Galo beams.  
He doesn't have the heart to deny him that.

Galo kisses him a lot.  
Lio likes it, although maybe it doesn't fire him up as much as Galo hopes. It feels good, and Lio likes the warmth of it, the tenderness, the way he can relax into it. He hasn't exactly been _waiting_ for a chance all his life, but now that he really gets to experience it (really, not like his first and rare adolescent fumblings that feel—were—so long ago) maybe he _has_ been missing out all this time. Maybe if he'd been able to feel that warmth, he would have taken on his mantle as leader out of hope rather than grim determination.  
He feels a little bad that he doesn't feel much more than “nice.” Or comforting.  
It's hard to tell himself that he's emotionally stunted and that that's a bad thing, because not dealing with that level of emotion all the time is so _restful_. He's been Burnish for so long, and leader for so long, and had to make himself burn so hard in that last battle, that the emptiness feels like a blanket. A comfortable blanket that he doesn't mind staying wrapped in.  
But he does feel bad when Galo worries about him for it, and he's… dissatisfied. With his own feelings.  
Because he loves Galo, that's something that's crept on him gradually and settled in his knowledge of the world, and he just accepted it as it came, and he hates feeling so detached from it.  
Not feeling is nice, but that's one emotion he doesn't want to smother. It's too important.  
_Galo_ deserves better.

And then, one day, Galo comes to stand in front of him, arms crossed, looking squarely at him. Silent.  
“… yes?” Lio asks, filling his mug.  
“I want you to step on me.”  
Lio does not drop the mug. He probably has his stunted emotions to thank for that.  
“… excuse me?”  
“I said step on me!”  
“And where did you get that idea?”  
“Cause your eyes always light up when you could.”  
This time, Lio's heart does a little lurch. He puts the mug down on the counter.  
“… what do you mean?”  
“I just noticed… when we fight, you always do that. If you corner me. It's like your eyes are alive again. And—and that time you said I was cute when I fought you that first time.”  
Lio's chest flutters. It's half fear and half something almost like excitement that rises from somewhere deep and distant inside him. And a lot, a lot of fondness and gratefulness for the man standing in front of him.  
Galo might be an idiot, but he more than makes up for it with everything else. What he can't figure out, he notices in other ways.  
He crosses his own arms.  
“And what do _you_ get out of it?”  
“… I like it when you're alight?”  
Lio raises an eyebrow.  
“I'm glad you're not _literally_ burning anymore, that sucked, but when you _look_ on fire it's really…”  
Silence.  
“… it's… hot?”  
Lio closes his eyes and questions his life choices. Galo Thymos is an idiot.  
“I'll pretend I didn't hear that.”  
“_Come on_, you know what I mean.”  
“And if I _do_ step on you, what will you do?” he asks, looking at him again. Acting more haughty than he feels, because somehow this makes him feel naked. Bared. Like the very precise moment in which his crumbling body stopped consuming itself and knit itself back to life under Galo's hands and lips.  
Galo blushes a little, but he smiles, and steps closer to Lio, and his voice is almost shy, and excited, and full of promise.  
“Then I'll make it worth your while.”  
And when Galo Thymos begs for something, Lio just can't resist him.

“Wait, since when do you have _those_?”  
Lio looks down. Galo's squatted in front of him, his face so close to his new boots that Lio can barely see the expression on it from this angle.  
“What? The boots?”  
“Yeah? They have heels. You didn't have them before.”  
“How astute,” Lio teases, his voice a facade of disinterest. “I went shopping with Aina yesterday.”  
Galo looks up at him, smiling. Lio has to fight back the urge to push him away. Because if he doesn't, then…  
“You're not gonna catch up to me even with those though, you know?”  
Rather than rolling his eyes at him, Lio simply lifts one of his feet and pushes Galo's chin up with the tip of his boot.  
“I bought them,” he informs him, “because I thought you would enjoy it. Was I wrong?”  
Galo swallows, but he looks more excited than ever.  
“Not at all.”

Their living quarters are small, but neither of them is a hoarder; it doesn't take much work to clear enough space in front of their small sofa and spread some blankets for safety.  
If he's really honest, Lio has no idea what he's doing. But he's had to operate on 'no idea what he's doing' with far higher stakes before, enough that he's learned that sometimes, what actually matters is how confident you can be in what you're doing—or how much you can fake it.  
So he sits, legs crossed, and waits for Galo to figure out what _he_'s doing.  
After a second's hesitation, he just sits at Lio's feet. Of course. Trust Galo to act rather than overthink.  
One of his hands strokes up Lio's leg, from ankle to knee, tracing the straps of his boots, and a shiver runs down Lio's spine at the sight.  
“Why are you so fascinated anyway?”  
“It's cause you look really cool in them.” He pauses, leans his head against Lio's knee, his chest dangerously close to Lio's legs. “Well. Not just cool.”  
Lio raises an eyebrow. In truth, it's because he doesn't trust his voice right now.  
“If I say 'you're hot' again, are you gonna hit me?”  
“… it depends. Would you enjoy it?”  
“Hm. Good question.”  
He's perfectly serious, damn him. And he's still pressed against the leather of Lio's boots, his large hands curled around the muscles at the back of his calves, and Lio wants to push him down and step on his neck.  
Damn him for reading Lio so well. And damn him for being right.  
Galo kisses his knee, and Lio's fire sparks to life.  
He wants—Galo's hands, warming his body, but most of all he wants Galo's eyes, looking up at him with awe and excitement, Galo's breath short with pleasure and exertion, Galo's body trembling, Galo's voice chanting his name. It's like Galo challenges him just by existing, and he wants to meet that challenge head on, to push him to his limits, to make him lose control and surrender. And he wants, he hungers, for that light of admiration and worship in Galo's eyes. He wants it to be _his_.  
He wants _him_ to be his.  
It's nothing compared to the rage that inhabited him when he called on to the planet's fire and let it take over. But compared to everything since then, it feels like going up in flames.  
When is the last time he's _wanted_? Not needed. Not felt compelled to. When was the last time he truly acted on _desire_?  
He doesn't remember. But right now, with Galo so determined to fire him up yet so innocent to what actually does, he intends to follow that trail of fire, for once. He wants to see where it'll lead him. Where it'll lead _them_.  
He reaches down, and tangles a hand in the back of Galo's hair.  
“You're playing a dangerous game, Galo Thymos,” he whispers.  
And Galo smiles.  
“Yeah. That's the point.”  
It's all the justification Lio needs.

It starts with a kiss. Lio bends down and presses his lips to Galo's own, breathless with hunger, his hand still fisted in his hair. It's nothing like before, like Lio's spent so long grabbing hold of destiny by force that he doesn't know how to do things differently anymore: the firm, forceful hold he has on Galo makes him feel _alive_, and his body burns hotter with every shaky breath Galo releases against him.  
When he breaks away, still intimately close, Galo shudders and smiles.  
“Yeah,” he breathes.  
Lio sends him sprawling.  
He resists, at first, on reflex, eyes wide with alarm and confusion. But as soon as he catches sight of Lio's face, a smile of excitement slides on his face, and he lets himself fall the rest of the way, back to the floor, legs pulled slightly up where his momentum took them.  
Even with Lio still sitting, he's within perfect range. And so, propping his head on the back of his knuckles and resting his elbow on the back of the sofa for balance, Lio lifts his foot a little and plants the heel of his boot right between Galo's legs on the ground. And presses the front of his foot on his crotch.  
Galo gasps. Somehow, for all his bravado, it seems he hadn't expected _that_, or at least not so quickly, and for the first second, his eyes are wide with surprise, but Lio doesn't give him time to come down from it. He presses harder, and Galo throws his head back with a moan so _light_ compared to his normal voice that Lio feels his blood boil.  
It's addicting. Galo's thighs are raised just on either side of his own leg, and from where he is, Lio can feel and see them shaking slightly. He's trying his best not to thrust up, Lio can tell, and that in itself is adorable. How is he such a good boy? It doesn't feel fair.  
He releases some of the pressure, shifting his weight to his heel for a second, and then presses down again before Galo can recover. His name breaks through Galo's lips, and it hits him that he could just keep going, that if he wanted to he could just stay where he is and keep doing this, and Galo would probably come, sooner rather than later, just from Lio's foot working his erection.  
It's a tempting thought, that kind of power. To reduce him to a panting mess while Lio doesn't move a finger. But his fire is rising, and he's feeling something for the first time in months, and he wants to hang on to it, to ride the feeling.  
To share it with Galo, who's been so good all this time and worked so hard to get it back for him.  
So he presses down one last time, hard, and pulls his foot back, standing. Looking down.

Galo pants. His face is flushed, his eyebrows high, his neck bared. A delight. After a few seconds, he opens one of his eyes, and when he catches Lio's own he grins.  
Through the fire in his blood, Lio can't help but smile back.  
“Having fun?”  
“Yesssss,” is Galo's answer, and Lio almost laughs.  
“I think you might be even more into this than I am,” he teases, walking forward and stepping lightly on Galo's stomach, bending down slightly to look at him, arm propped on his own knee.  
Galo gasps again.  
“I don't know and I don't—hn—care.”  
Lio smiles. Somehow, he feels _happy_.  
“You're right. It's not a competition.” He starts pressing his heel into Galo's stomach, slowly and carefully but gradually deeper. “Then how do you feel about this?”  
“See, you get m—_fuck_. Fuck. Yes. _Yeah_ that's good.”  
“Do you like my heels now?”  
“I—I mean, I already loved them—fuck, _Lio_.”  
Lio chuckles. His heel is pressing deep into Galo's stomach, enough that he's carefully holding himself back out of fear of hurting him, and the dent is visible, the way Galo's stomach caves in to try and accommodate him.  
“You really do like being threatened, huh?” he murmurs, half excitement and half pure undiluted awe.  
“It—it's… exciting…”  
To Lio, being genuinely threatened has never been that exciting. But then again, it's never been only his own life on the line.  
But fighting Galo, who not only had burning spirit to spare but also never fought to harm, had been exciting from the beginning.  
“Aren't you lucky I don't have my fire armour ones anymore?” he teases.  
“… as long as you don't _press_ I'd be fine. I think.” Just for fun, Lio shifts his weight to the front of his foot to put pressure on his ribs instead, then shifts back to the heel, and Galo's eyes flutter shut again. “Ffffffffuck.”  
Lio chuckles, and bends down to caress his cheek. Galo's eyes open again, and from this close it's easy to see how dazed and burning they already are, like a blaze behind a curtain of steam.  
He's blushing, too. Blushing _hard_, the colour spreading from his face to his neck, and even his chest. It makes his lips look fuller, brings his cheeks into focus, and frames, contrasts, the sweat that's starting to bead on his neck.  
He breathes, the movement pushing against Lio's foot and then falling back, and he swallows, breath growing more shallow, concentrating in his chest.  
Tentatively, he raises one of his arms, and when Lio doesn't 'punish' him for it, brushes his fingers up the heel, wraps them around the back of Lio's ankle, his thumb laid up against the back of his calf. The pressure makes Lio gasp; it feels so _good_, somehow, that firm weight stroking at him through the leather. Galo's hand is large, and every point of contact feels warm, and somehow it makes him feel even more powerful.  
“I always wondered how you even moved around on those,” Galo admits in a murmur, clearly too fascinated by the boot under his hand to put his usual spirit into it. “You weren't just walking, either.”  
“'Those'?”  
“Those pointy heels in your armour,” he explains, his hand sliding further up and warming what feels like all of Lio's calf, wrapping around him like a second boot. “How'd you balance on them.”  
Lio grins.  
“Practice.”  
“Huh?”  
“Can't a man have his secrets?”  
Galo blinks, then laughs, then moans again as the laughter presses Lio's heel into him.  
“I—hn—I guess.” He grins, winks. “Will I ever find out?”  
“Maybe eventually.”  
He lifts the pressure on Galo's stomach, and slides his foot a little further forward, more fully on his ribcage. Galo's hand tightens in response, not in warning but in appreciation, judging by the way he almost pulls him even closer.  
Lio smiles and props his chin on the back of his hand.  
“Do you want it closer to your face that badly?”  
“… wouldn't say no.”  
“In that case…”  
He straightens, redirects all of his weight to his standing leg, and removes his foot from Galo's chest. Galo lets go, but not without a little pout of disappointment. Lio almost rolls his eyes in fondness. What a puppy.  
Galo's expression changes when Lio straddles his head, one foot planted on each side, barely a breath away from his cheeks. His eyes widen, travel up Lio's legs, over his crotch, over his face. He licks his lower lip a little, and Lio doesn't even think he did it on purpose.  
“Looks like the boots aren't the only thing you want closer to your face,” he murmurs, and before Galo can confirm or dispute his statement, he spreads his knees, lets his hips drop, and sits down on his chest, his feet still planted on either side of his face.

It takes strength, but the look on Galo's face is worth it. His eyes keep darting, wide, from his feet to his face to his crotch and back, and from the way he's starting to bite his lip and the slight movement of his hips that reverberates all the way to Lio's ass, Lio suspects that he's starting to get uncomfortably warmed up. If Lio stepped on his dick again right now, he doubts any part of it would be soft anymore.  
“What about now?” he croons, and Galo, bless him, _whines_.  
“Lio, that's _not fair_!”  
Lio smiles, sweetly, like one does before finally lighting something long-awaited on fire, and shifts the side of one of his feet just a little to caress his scalp.  
“Hmm? Whatever do you mean?”  
“You can't just—just—”  
His eyes dart down again, and back up, and if his outfit wasn't so tight, Lio would probably have been even more in Galo's face by now. He's feeling the pressure more than a little now, but toying with him is more fun than quick gratification.  
Lio stays silent. Under him, Galo's face and neck are growing so red and hot that his brain is probably boiling.  
“… are you gonna make me say it?” he finally pants.  
“Yes,” Lio answers, deadpan.  
Galo groans and leans his face to the side, as if to hide in the leather of Lio's boot.  
“Come on, Galo. Show me your burning spirit.”  
Galo breathes in harshly.  
“… I want to taste you,” he finally says, quiet but deep, and it's Lio's breath that catches. He might have challenged him, but Galo more than rose to the challenge.  
“That can be arranged,” he breathes.  
“Just—fuck me. Somewhere. Anywhere. I don't _care_. I just wanna feel you.”  
It's surprisingly honest, direct, fragile and strong at the same time. And yet, it's not surprising at all: what else, really, could he have expected from Galo Thymos.  
And it makes him understand, really understand, something that had been passing him by.  
“… you've been waiting.”  
Galo looks away.  
“… don't wanna make you.”  
He's sweet. He's so sweet. He's impossibly sweet and Lio doesn't deserve him.  
He smiles, trying his best to be reassuring.  
“I'd like to see you try, anyway.” And then he stretches a little, and pulls his feet closer together, forcing Galo to keep his head straight. “Maybe I will. If you're good.”  
Galo grins, _lights up_, and it's the most adorable thing Lio has ever seen.  
He seems to think that a lot. Somehow, Galo always moves that goalpost.  
“Fine,” he says, tilting his hips up and standing. “On your knees, then.”  
He steps back. Galo hurriedly props himself on his elbows, then pushes himself up and scrambles to a kneeling position.

When he walks up to him, Galo reaches for his waist, but Lio waves his finger at him.  
“Not yet.”  
“Huh?”  
“I said 'if you're good'. Hands behind your back. And spread your knees a little.”  
Galo bites his lip and nods. He straightens and crosses his arms behind his back, shifts his hips forward. It gives his back the most alluring curve, makes him hold himself with beautiful tension, the muscles of his stomach taunt. When he looks up at Lio, his eyes are already dark.  
Lio threads a hand through his hair.  
“So, is that 'fired up' enough for you?” he teases, tenderly.  
“Is it fired up enough for _you_,” Galo counters, not letting go of his eyes.  
Lio falters for a second.  
“Cause that's what matters to me,” Galo adds.  
“I…” He swallows, feels himself blushing, and almost loses all his confidence in a mere second. “I… I think I'm starting to feel it.”  
Galo smiles. Lio smiles back, feeling brittle, and brushes his hair back.  
To his surprise, Galo turns his head and leans into it, nuzzling at the small stretch of skin between his glove and the lace of his undersleeve.  
“I love you, y'know.”  
Lio's chest shakes.  
“… I know.”  
He's never said it before. But he's made it clear enough, with his attention, his devotion, the happiness in his voice when Lio throws a joke at him.  
He knows.  
The look Galo shoots him from his nestled spot in Lio's hand could be called coy if it wasn't so genuine. Just genuine shyness and genuine openness, and warmth, so much warmth.  
There must be words to express his own feelings, but Lio can't find them. And he's not Galo, who can say it so easily, short and sweet.  
But it's becoming increasingly obvious that Galo is here to stay. That this thing they have together might actually last. That the deep satisfied feeling that settled in his bones as he and Galo joined to burn the whole world wasn't a mirage.  
They belong together. At least, that's what he wants to believe, and Galo is doing an incredible job of making him believe it.  
And with Galo, he feels alive. Like if he stays close to his burning spirit long enough, it will ignite him again, bring back the parts of himself that he lost.  
He doesn't have words, but Galo, as stupid as he might be about some things, is surprisingly good at feelings. If he shows it in a different way, he knows Galo will understand.  
So he sinks his hand further into Galo's hair, grips, firm but careful, and presses his foot between his legs again.

Galo draws in a sharp breath. Another press and he's moaning, pressing his hips forward against Lio's foot, but keeping his arms in place.  
He's so _hard_ already, like Lio stepping on him is the thing he's waiting for all his life, and as Lio keeps working him he starts panting, hard, unrestrained.  
“Lio… _Lio…_”  
Lio smiles and moves his foot to press his erection up against his stomach instead.  
“Lio—_hnnnnnnnnfuck_,” Galo whimpers, his voice dragging on it. His eyes are closing, but Lio tugs on his hair a little.  
“Eyes on me, Galo.”  
The look Galo shoots him is _pleading_, and that's exactly what he wanted to see. He presses up and forward again, probably enough to hurt, and Galo just comes apart, panting into nothing, eyes wild and stuck on Lio's own.  
He's _beautiful_.  
“That's right,” Lio murmurs. “Just like that.”  
He starts working at him in earnest, moving his foot in slow circles. It's all guesswork, and when he first thought of it he'd been self-conscious about his lack of experience with this particular way of getting someone off, but from the way Galo's reacting, he didn't need to worry too much. Whether he's actually good at it or not, Galo is far too far gone to care.  
“Lio…”  
It's like a drug, watching Galo like this, having him call his name again and again while he's _looking up_ at him like this. And with every movement of his foot, he comes apart even further, disintegrating, his breath and his calls of Lio's name breaking down and losing all semblance of coherency.  
“Go on, Galo,” Lio murmurs, “come for me,” and Galo _cries out_ and does, eyes wild, breath ragged, hips pressed as hard as he can against Lio's foot.  
Lio smiles. He feels high. He feels _free_. He feels… Himself.  
“Good boy,” he murmurs, and Galo hides his face in his arm again to catch his breath.  
He hasn't even pulled back his own arms. What a good boy indeed.  
Letting go of his hair, Lio drops to one knee in front of him, and hugs him. Galo leans against him gratefully, pressing his face into his shoulder.  
Lio reaches behind him, and gently pulls his arms back to a resting position. It takes him a second to react, to realise that he'd kept them here, but once he does, he brings them up shakily to hug Lio back.  
“Are you okay?” Lio murmurs, resting his cheek against Galo's buzz-short hair.  
“Yeah… yeah.” He breathes. “_Man_ that was something.”  
“You asked for it,” Lio reminds him tenderly, and Galo laughs.  
“Yeah, I did.”  
“Can you stand?”  
“Yeah.”  
Lio nods, and stands, and Galo comes with him, still holding on to him a little. It's cute.  
Lio walks backwards, leading him, until his legs hit the sofa, and sits back down on it, exhaling some of his tension. Galo, apparently still determined to live up to his promise to be good, kneels back at his feet, and plops his chin down on Lio's knee, looking at him.  
The silliness of it is adorable, and Lio starts laughing, smothering it with the back of his hand.  
Oh, it feels good, to laugh again.  
“What?” Galo asks.  
“Nothing. Now, aren't you forgetting something?”  
“Huh?”  
“You're not done here.”  
Galo straightens and grins.  
“That mean I've been good enough?”  
“… yes,” he admits, softening. “Yes, you've been good. Now.” He leans back, and extends one of his legs for Galo to take. “Start by undoing all of those straps.”

**Author's Note:**

> <s>He did say "anywhere" so Lio is going to make the best of that offer by trying every possibility. Good luck Galo, have fun.</s>
> 
> Be good like Galo and leave a comment ;)


End file.
